The Sunspire Act One, Melodrama

It wasn't that Muirrin was unmoved—she simply was at a loss about how to deal with the drama unfolding before her. She had never heard or seen anything like it and, frankly, it seemed quite a bit over the top. Even when her grandfather—the figure in her life held most dear—had fallen beyond the veil to be claimed by the Otherworld, Muirrin's grief had not manifested itself in this way. No, it wasn't that the Blackthorn was unmoved or unconcerned. She simply could not relate.

Her eyes narrowed, then turned to the child who's laughter made the fur raise along the her back. Were the fey playing tricks on her this night? For the events unfolding did not seem natural in Muirrin's perception; still, she remained quiet, calculating her interaction with these creatures precisely. If they were of the Otherworld, it would be their intention to capture her—for a night or for a week, it would not matter, for when she would be allowed to return to this world a hundred years would have passed.

The child moved towards her, then, with an older woman close behind her steps. Muirrin stood taller, tensing—how could a babe command a grown wolf in such a way? No, there was something notably off about this encounter, and the Blackthorn did not like it. "Come no closer," she warned the pair, for the moment ignoring the wails of the third stranger. Again, the child laughed, before beckoning her chaperone to come away. Muirrin did not move until they were a considerable distance away, and then even as she approached the grief-stricken woman her eyes never quite left their retreating forms.

"What happened, exactly?" she queried, doing her best to use soothing tones. Regardless of the current melodrama, if there was something dangerous near her territory, Muirrin wanted to know of it. Wildcats, perhaps? They had been known to attack wolves when desperate, and without a pack a wolf would be lucky to come away unharmed.